


The Great Debate

by Gairid



Series: Through the 4th Wall, Darkly [1]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Fourth Wall, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:37:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic inspired by Mater's continuing Drama Queen antics. Just a wee bit of silliness--I thank all of you who illuminated me re: the books I have not read. Those books are treated by Louis and the rest as untrue--read on. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Debate

  
**The Great Debate**  


I don’t know where the idea of vampires being mostly solitary creatures arose but I am quite sure it has never reached the ears of the ones in this anonymous-looking ‘conference room’ in a nondescript, medium-sized city. This particular group is inordinately fond of congregating at the mere mention of drama. I would very likely have passed on this meeting but Lestat would not hear of it in this case because it involved the erstwhile ghostwriter of several of the books published by what said ghostwriter was pleased to call the Coven of the Articulate.  
   
I am unsure if ‘articulate’ would be the best descriptive for the impassioned malediction being flung about -- from Nicolas’s aggrieved muttering about being left on the cutting room floor (he sometimes confuses his metaphors, but hatchet editing is as hatchet editing does, I suppose) and being left out of the continuing tales to Armand’s irate affront at being subtly referred to as a plump little cherub, Marius was hard-pressed to try and bring the unruliness to a halt and never mind that he was using his most stentorian tones in order to bring about a bit of order. Mind, all this was without Lestat interjecting his opinions at all thus far.  
   
Perhaps it was because Lestat refused to speak to Ms. R for several years after he’d given her his copious notes to what later became known as Memnoch the Devil and she took the idea of ‘poetic license’ over a most precipitous edge—one that Lestat did not forgive at all. Suffice it to say that the book was her own fabrication born, perhaps, out of her own growing megalomania and the Catholic faith she was then in the early stages of reclaiming. Whatever it was, she began taking the most outrageous liberties with any negligent remark he later made to her and did likewise with those manuscripts our fellow vampires trustingly sent to her. Why he bothered with her at all, I can’t say for sure—it was likely his perverse nature asserting itself. It may be surprising to some, but he does not go at everything he does full speed ahead—in fact he has a way of picking around the edges of things that I can attest to from long experience. This habit could indeed drive a person mad.  
   
But back to the imbroglio at hand, yes? I glanced at Lestat, standing by the window that looked down onto the courtyard at the center of the hotel. He was watching with every appearance of indifference but subtle movements of his face gave him away; a small tightening of the skin between his fair brows signaled aggravation when someone referenced Rowan Mayfair and a quirk of his mouth gave away his amusement at Marius’s increasingly annoyed attempts at quelling the spiraling roar of voices.  
   
 I might state here that if anyone involved has a reason to be outraged, it would be me. If you have read the tome entitled _Merrick_ , you will know exactly what I mean. I believe it was her vindictive way of getting back at Lestat for his refusal to engage after the Memnoch debacle. His memorable utterances after that little gem appeared could easily have filled another book. Of course, not a jot of that mess even remotely resembled anything akin to our particular realities but it piqued his jealous ire in ways that were as amusing as they were unsettling. I might also say that Lestat has never called anyone ‘dude’ unless it was with the bite of extreme sarcasm behind it.  He is much more adept with modern colloquialisms than many of us who have been around for any length of time, but there are some things that will sound forced no matter how good of a mimic one might be, When one is attempting to blend in, the misuse of something like that is far more glaring than the absence of the slang altogether. Trust me on this.  
   
“Manga!” Armand shouted. “What on earth are you talking about now?” He glared at Daniel. Daniel was leaning far back in his chair, seeming to defy gravity. It’s not a difficult thing for us to do but Daniel is still young enough that such things tickle him. He seemed disinclined to argue with Armand; I would even venture to say he was, in his own way, doing his best to incite Armand to new heights of fury.  
   
“Japanese graphic novels—comics. You know. You’ve seen them.” Daniel shrugged eloquently and Nicki, seated next to him snorted.  
   
“Drama queen.” Nicki growled.  Armand glanced sharply at him, but relaxed somewhat as Nicki continued. “Nattering away on The Facebook…”  
   
“Just  Facebook, Nick.” Daniel said,  _sotto voce_.  
   
“Yes, alright, Facebook—acting as though she’d never heard of such a thing when everyone knows…”  
   
“Why do we even need to do anything about it?” Jesse said from her spot across from Armand. “You guys are so touchy—really, it’s all pretty funny if you think about it.”

“No one said we were going to do anything.” Marius said with some asperity.

“You mean to say we are in this dreadful hotel in the middle of nowhere for no reason?” Lestat asked, finally levered from his studied indifference.

Jesse laughed. “Are you going to kill her? What's the point of that? It will only make people read those books that have gotten under everyone's skin.”

“You lucked out, Red. You aren't even in any of those books.” Daniel said. “I am, though. Apparently I live with my Grandpa Marius and have become a drooling imbecile who does nothing but play with toy trains. Armand drove me to it, of course.” He looked over at Armand with widened eyes.

“Don't call me Grandpa.” Marius said.

“I don't want to kill her.” Lestat said, interrupting them. “No fun in that.” He turned and looked at me. “Do you know, Louis, she had the very nerve to say that she had thought of writing your book with you as a woman who pretends to be a man in order to be taken seriously? She then said that really, Louis was her.” He said this accusingly, as though I somehow had something to do with her addled fantasies. “Oh, and you've left me, you know, for good.”

“ _Pauvre bébé_.” I murmured.

“Why do you have to make everything about you?” Armand demanded..

“Oh, please. You know she wrote the most egregious things supposedly from my point of view.” Lestat snapped.

“I wouldn't say that.” David said, speaking for the first time. “That obsession with the breasts of a 14 year old girl—she wrote that about _me_.”

Daniel and Nicki exchanged a glance and Daniel snickered. It occurred to me just then that they had arrived together.

“Two words.” Lestat said, his face the very picture of long suffering “Mona Mayfair.”

Armand stared at him for a long moment and suddenly brayed laughter. “You have me at that one.” he admitted. He gave another laugh “Audience with the Pope. Saint Lestat.”

“Obvious self-insert.” Lestat said. “I have no interest in being a saint, thank you very much. Nor do I subscribe to a Catholic newspaper.”

“I'm not dead.” Nicki said morosely, “And neither is Santino.”

There was a collective groan at that. Santino had been invited but sent his regrets. Pressing obligations, or so he said.

“Killed by your pet Viking Thorne.” Lestat said to Marius. “Master of the Cloud Gift and Masochist Extraordinaire.” He smiled sweetly.

“I don't know why I bother.” Marius said, throwing up his hands and sitting down.

“And you.” Lestat said, whirling to face David. The suddenness of his move finally erased the ponderous old-man frown from his youthful face. This was a great relief—David may look young but he still has some of the more enervating mannerisms of an older mortal. “You're damn lucky that Merrick trash was a figment of Mrs. Rice's fevered imaginings.”

Again, the ponderous old-man frown. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Macking on Louis. Naughty, naughty.” Jesse said. She had a lovely, wide smile.

“As if.” I said in a theatrical aside. The ponderous frown deepened alarmingly.

“Macking?” Nicki queried. Nicki really does need to mingle a bit more. Even I knew what it meant and the Dear knows I am not always up on the latest catchphrases..

“There's this website called Urban Dictionary.” Lestat said, not unkindly. “Make it your friend.”

There was no love lost between those two, but they did manage to be civil for the most part—be that as it may, it was obvious that Lestat was prickly over the familiarity that was becoming more and more apparent between Nicolas and Daniel. His possessiveness knows no boundaries. And no, I am not jealous.

I stood up and was somewhat pleased to note that all griping and chatter ceased.

“We are all aware that Mrs. Rice has not been a ...competent resource for at least a decade. This current disingenuousness is merely her response to her sycophants desiring to follow her wishes. Certainly if one of you wishes to target her, no one would stand in your way. I wonder that anyone thinks it worth their time. Nicolas—you are alive as you have said a time or two this evening—you might consider it a blessing that she has cast you by the wayside--Santino surely has and God knows I heaved a sigh of relief when I made no further appearances. Daniel? You are an instigator and I have this strange feeling that you care as much about all this as I do.” Daniel chuckled and gave me a thumbs up.

“Marius, forgive me---but really, the Wise Master thing is really getting old and I don't think even you believe it anymore. You and David should just go back to Wales or wherever you have chosen as your love nest and enjoy yourselves—not like it's a secret, you know.”

“Armand...you may or may not give a fig about Sybele and Benji---I quite understand, still, Marius was only trying to help. Much like he did when he abandoned you and Lestat and..ahhh, but I am being rude, am I not? I would take it as a personal favor if you removed those two to some other locale before Lestat loses his temper when they once again encroach upon his chosen hunting grounds.”

“Jessica? It has been a while, hasn't it? I would love it if you would consider coming to New Orleans as our guest sometime soon. We'll catch up as they say.”

Of course my words caused consternation and pique—that was intended; after all, it amuses Lestat and it gives everyone something to bitch about and we all leave happy because vampires are solitary and don't get along--until the next time.

You knew that, right?

FIN

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Lestat de Lioncourt, Louis de Pointe du Lac, Marius, Armand, Santino, Jessica Reeves, Daniel Molloy and Nicolas de L'Enfant and the title _The Vampire Chronicles_ are the sole creation and property of Anne Rice and her publishers; no profit has been made from this writing. As always, written for love, not money.


End file.
